


In the Dead of Night

by GeekyRoleplayer



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Constangreen - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyRoleplayer/pseuds/GeekyRoleplayer
Summary: Constantine finds himself awakening from yet another nightmare but this time there is someone there to calm him down.
Relationships: John Constantine/Gary Green
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	In the Dead of Night

There were no lights.

He was submerged within total darkness.

The air was thick with a smog, a heavy smoke that constricted his throat. Unable to breath, he found himself coughing in the haze. His body shakes with the action and it's so ferocious that his chest begins to ache.

For a few moments he is consumed, and it is all that his senses can endure.

Until his ears begin to ring.  
A sound in the distance catches his attention.  
It's faint at first, and he struggles to understand the muffled voice.

It is a girl. Young, frantic, and alone.  
As soon as the familiarity of it registers, he begins to run hazardously. Despite the pain in his lungs and the straining of his limbs, he continues to blunder about in the abyss.

"John!"

"Help me John!"

"Don't let him take me away!"

\---

The demonologist, exorcist, and master of the dark arts, was not unaccustomed to nightmares. This one simply shook him more than most. 

He never found the girl within his dream, but he still sought her out as he sat up in bed. His gaze drifted across his room; it settled in every corner, as if seeking out an intruder within the shadows. 

A bead of sweat rolls down the bridge of his nose. 

John felt like he is was burning from the inside out and his now prevalent headache was almost preferable than going back to sleep. Almost. 

He settled back against his satin sheets and rolled over onto his side. If he could just get comfortable again - 

A pair of eyes were staring up at him. They were kind and sympathetic but still he found them unnerving. Not because he disliked the person beside him but because romance had always been testy waters in his experience. 

Gary's voice was deeper than it usually was. Altered by hours of undisturbed sleep. "Conny? Was it another nightmare?" 

"Nothing for you to worry about love, just go back to bed." He had, perhaps, been to rough with that response. Quick to dismiss his current partner's caring nature. 

There was a shifting beside him, as the other man twists around in his blankets so that he could seek out the lamp switch on the the nightstand. He finds it with plenty of fumbling, and then a warm glow floods it's way into the room. Revealing in it's wake the high arching ceiling, the bedroom's stain glass windows detailing a moon, stars, and trees in varying shades of green or blues, along with the many books that were scattered amongst the floor. 

It also gave sentience to those pair of doting eyes, the ones which glimmered with worry in the dark. The retired Time Bureau agent was peering down at John now. He squinted in an annoyingly adorable way, vision obscured by his current lack of glasses. His black hair was disheveled, the gel used to keep it in place during the day had long since been washed away in the shower earlier that evening. His most notable feature in those moments, however, would be the frown that tugged so harshly on his lips. 

"You're sweating," Gary remarks, as if it's the most casual thing in the world.

"It's hot in here, for once I can thank you for hogging the blankets." 

"You're crying too, John." 

He wasn't ready for that bit of sobering information. It struck him like a weight, and he reached upwards to wipe at his eyes. They were damp sure enough, but the tears were few in their commodity. "Well, I hardly noticed."

"That doesn't mean you should ignore it." As the conversation continued, the agent seemed to grow more desperate. Hopelessly seeking a way for John to open up to him. That in itself seemed like the most impossible task in the world. So he asked the hard question. "Was it about Astra?" 

John sighs and wipes at his eyes again, this time out of frustration. "Yes." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"No." 

Gary reaches for his hands, and gently pulls them downwards to reveal his face. Dark brown eyes meet blue ones and for a moment they merely sit in silence. Each searching for something within the expression of the other, but being unable to find it in the end. What had it been? Content, understanding, or love? 

"Can you please tell me how you're feeling about it, then?" Gary attempts once more. He intertwines their hands. Fingers slotting together so easily. 

"Alright. I feel like shit." 

"And?" 

"And I feel guilty." 

"And?" 

"And seeing her again reminded me why I'm doing all of this. I wish I could help her, Gar, I just don't know how..." 

The agent and apprentice of the dark arts offers a small nod of acceptance. Happy to have gotten atleast that much out of the haughty British man.  
"Thank you, and we'll keep looking, John. Where there's a will, there's a way, we just have to find it." 

"Ah, I can always count on you and your limitless optimism." 

Gary sinks back against the mattress, body becoming partially consumed by the large, weighed comforter that covered them. "Well, both of us can't be full of cynicism, we'd never get anything done." 

A laugh wretches itself from John's lips and it rumbles within the room. If it had been anymore heartfelt, it may have very well shaken the house's foundations. "You've got me there." 

"I know, now, how are you feeling?" 

"Marginally better." He scoots forward, and brushes a soft kiss against Gary's brow. "Thank you."

"Appreciation from John Constantine? I must still be dreaming." 

"Sod it then, I take it back." 

A wry and happy smile was already tugging at Gary's lips, regardless, twisting into something genuine and devastatingly contagious. "I'm here for you Conny," the pet name slips off his tongue like honey, "don't forget it." 

"I'm working on it Gary," the commitment, the compromise, and the companionship. "I promise that I am." 

"I know," the other man soothes in a reassuringly voice. "And I appreciate it." 

"And I appreciate-" the words halt as John hesitates. 

"Hm?" 

"You." 

There's something to that single word. It hangs in the air as something more. A blade placed directly above their heads that would eventually come crashing down. 

For now, Gary was content to take it as it was. He leans forward against the pillows to lock his lips with Constantine's. 

The man's kisses were always so delicate and shy. Sometimes, John worried that he may break the other man, just by holding on to tightly. 

Gary whispers something against his lips. It's an ancient dialect. In a language nearly lost to time. 

The light that was encompassing the room flickers out and they are shrouded once more in the lush darkness of the night.


End file.
